


Grace is Gone

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-09
Updated: 2008-01-09
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes visits Fred’s grave and finds more than he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace is Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Title: Grace Is Gone  
Author: Rachel   
Pairings: Wes/Fred, in a way.  
Disclaimer: Joss owns everyone, I own nothing. I’m simply taking them out to play with. The Lyrics are Grace Is Gone by Dave Matthews Band.  
Distribution: Ask first, I’ll probably say yes.  
Rating: PG13 for heavy angst.  
Spoilers: Post- NFA, but Wes is alive... breath in the denial with me. :)  
Notes: Written for Winter Of Wes and part of my unfinished, post NFA series, tentatively titled “Bookends” but this one can stand on its own.  
Summary: Wes visits Fred’s grave and finds more than he planned.  
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)  
Soundtrack: Grace is Gone by Dave Matthews Band. Also, One Headlight by the Wallflowers works really well too.

 

(I could never love again, so much as I love you. Where you end where I begin, it's like a river going through.   
Take my eyes, take my heart, I need them no more. If never again they’ll fall upon the one I so adore.   
'scuse me please, one more drink .Could you make it strong, 'cause I don’t need to think. She broke my heart My Grace is Gone one more drink and I’ll move on.) 

Lilies and sunflowers surrounded her grave like the clouds and sun, bringing warmth and sunlight on the gloomiest of dark days. He was gloom personified, awkward, out of place with a constant fog of blackish gray looming over him. He was the weed in her garden, an intruder. A wilting flower in a field of beauty. The sky danced over them, threatening her own tears of sadness, but she did not shed them yet, simply biding her time. He only comes here on dark days, to ruin the sunshine with his presence seemed unfair after all he’d done to her.

He fell to his knees, reaching out to the cold stone seeking warmth in it that he did not deserve. He was the reason this precious life was lost to the world, he had no right to feel grief, or loss or to shed a single tear. He allowed himself to feel nothing but hangovers. He neither wanted nor earned forgiveness. He pressed his forehead against the headstone bearing her name, breathing the only words he permitted himself to say.

“I’m so sorry.” They echoed loudly in the empty graveyard, but still they seemed hollow. Words alone could not cover his sins, and no amount of good deeds could atone for them. So he had stopped trying. Moving from place to place, he’d lived all over the country, working only enough to keep his whiskey glass full. He finally settled in Montana a year ago, away from the demons and life-and-death battles. Someplace quiet where people didn’t ask questions, someplace he where he wasn’t Wesley Wyndham-Price: former watcher and world’s greatest fuck up. He was John next door, someone who didn’t bother anyone and no one bothered him. Still, he came here at least once a year, to plead forgiveness to his lost salvation.

For a moment he allowed himself to miss his friends: bonding with Gunn, fighting with Cordy, Fred’s kisses. It seemed as though it was another life ago, when times were light even when other things weren’t. People to get you through the hard parts, and celebrate the good. But it was no longer who he was, and the feeling left as the cold wind blew across his face, whipping away into the afternoon chill.

He shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around himself, trying to ward off a cold set deep in his heart, and somehow he knew that the coat would neither help nor hinder. He was a shell without her, she was his grace and she was gone. He felt the flower in his inside pocket crush against his chest. It was a wilted rose, much like his heart. What was once full of life was now bruised and beaten and bleeding. Both cried out for tenderness, to feel truly alive again, but were only met with cold. Soulmates without souls. To put it on her grave was blasphemy; she should have nothing less than the most beautiful garden in the world, and certainly nothing to remind her of his pitiful existence. Who wanted a reminder of love failed?

He felt tears near his eyes, tears he wasn’t permitted to cry. Standing up from her grave, having damned her ground long enough, he trudged back to his truck. He’d picked up it two years ago in Georgia, he couldn’t remember where. He opened the door and a half empty bottle of Whiskey fell to the asphalt, it was cheap but it got the job done. Popping the cap off, he took several healthy swallows before slumping back to the ground, the numbing feeling flowing through him, the tears hiding back inside his frozen, old heart.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” a familiar voice came from behind him. First, he was sure it was the whiskey talking, but a moment later she came from behind his car. She looked as he remembered, although her hair was longer, more like it had been when they first met.

“Cordelia,” he drawled, hardly shocked to see his dead friend standing in front of him.

The brunette huffed, putting her hands on her hips, staring up at the sky. “I’ve been dead for five years, you’d think he have a better reaction, or at least something else to say!”

Wes snorted, taking another long drink from his bottle. “Let me guess, you were sent here by a higher power to set me on the path to righteousness and redemption.”

“Gee, take away my fun.” She snatched, the bottle away from him, he growled in protest. She ignored him, pouring out the contents on the ground. “Actually, I’ve been sent by a higher power to stop you from drinking yourself into a stupor. Again.” 

“I don’t need saving, Cordy,” he snapped, pushing off the ground, swaying slightly in his drunkenness.

“Yes, you do,” she told him bluntly, grabbing his arm, “And I’m here to do it. I’ve watched you, every year you come here and sink a little deeper, and every year I’ve begged Them to let me come down and help you out.”

“Well, as glad as am that I’ve finally earned the pity of immortal beings that have done nothing but screw with me, I don’t want to be saved,” he said sarcastically, pulling free from her grip. “We’re done here.”

Cordy sighed in frustration. He was slipping; she could feel it in his aura. If she didn’t do something now he’d be lost forever. She cursed the stupid Powers for letting it go this long. She grabbed him again as he went for the car door.

“What about Fred? Do you think she wants this for you? Do you think she likes watching you waste your life away?!” she shouted. She knew how dangerous it was just saying her name, but she didn’t have a choice; she had a soul to save.

“I wouldn’t know and neither would you! She didn’t get to go to Heaven, her soul burned while a hell goddess ate into her body. I was there, I watched her die! I watched life draining from her!” he shouted, his voice trembling more with every word. “I held her while she shook. She wanted be to strong, she was always the strong one.” As his voice fell to a whisper, felt the first tear in five years roll down his cheek.

“It’s not true,” Cordy started softly, “She made it. She’s in heaven now.” The former watcher’s eyes went wide and he fell down to his knees again. She was in heaven...

“You don’t have to feel guilty for her death anymore.”

He stared at her in shock. “How... I thought...”

“It’s another lie Evil told. They, Evil, Wolfram and Hart, Senior Partners, whatever, they can’t change something like that. If someone’s meant to be there, then that’s where they end up.” She knelt down and took his hand. “She’s alright Wes; it’s you we’re worried about.”

He looked up at Cordy, a hint of a smile on his face. “When did you become so wise?”

“About two hundred demons ago, you’d think we’d get out of that stuff, but no, we’re still the lowly messengers.” She flipped her long hair over he shoulder, “And fashion? Not much in that department, it’s a whole bunch of white. It’s an improvement for him, but anything would’ve been. At least they let me pick when I come down here.” she added, motioning to her white blouse and blue jeans. 

“Him?” Wes wondered, a slow smiled crossed her face. 

“Doyle, remember he had the visions before me? We work in pairs up there. He’s... well, turns out there was someone for me after all. I just had to *die* to get him.” She glared up at the sky, shaking her head. “He’s hiding around here somewhere. He decided it was better I do this one solo.”

He almost laughed; some things never changed. Sighing, he looked over at former the May queen.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know.” he told her, “This doesn’t change me.”

“It does change things, but no, it doesn’t fix everything,” she agreed, getting to her feet, taking him up as well. “You’re not responsible for her death, Wes. Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean you have to stop living your life.”

“I’m not sure I remember how to do that,” he whispered. Memories flashed through his mind, his Father’s disappointment, his complete failure as a Watcher. Taking Connor... He was the pieces of a man, constantly being broken and scattered about. She was only one who could could put him back together again. “I’m not sure I was living before her.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just... I’m not sure I can explain it, I’d have to show you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, glowing crystal, the light shining brightly through the gray afternoon. “We’re not supposed to do this, but I was never a fan of Their rules, anyway.” She half smiled. She’d only done this twice before; the aftermath involved a range of emotions: everything from denial to joyfulness... The risk was a great one and it was only done in dire circumstances. But this was someone she’d fought alongside for years... he was more than just a case... he was a friend. And she didn’t let her friends fall off the edge, not when there was something she could do. “Besides, what are old friends for anyway?” 

He watched curiously as she held the crystal over his heart and pulled her hand away. It floated there for just moments before it exploded. He was showered in light and in warmth he hadn’t felt since the last time he held Fred. His soul felt alive, singing songs of pleasure. The ice surrounding his heart melted away, and tears long repressed and forgotten found their way to back the surface. He cried out in bliss and agony, the dizzying pain, the exquisite joy flowed through his veins like lightening, zapping and fizzing through his blood until he was sure he was going to burst. Love so ached for finally finding its way home.

Then it was over.

The intensity left him shaking, but not everything was gone. He could feel his heart and soul for the first time in over five years. 

“W-what the bloody hell was that?” he demanded as best he could. It was strange to feel his heart again, but not bad.

“You already know what it is, you’ve felt it before. That’s Fred’s love, the love she still has for you.” she told him softly, helping him to lean against the car.

“T-that was... how could she possibly still love me?” he asked no one in particular. After all he’d done, after he’s lost her to this world, she was still able to love him.

“It’s her soul’s desire. She still loves you. I had to show you that, like I said before: she’s not gone, she’s just...”

“Not here.” he finished for her, smiling over knowledge he didn’t understand himself. 

The brunette smiled brightly, “Finally, he gets it! You were always a little slow when it came to love.”

He chuckled, more at himself than anyone. “I suppose I was.” He placed his hand over his heart, still feeling her love tingling through him. “She’s happy, isn’t she?”

The former seer nodded. “She’s where she belongs. Now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t belong anywhere. I haven’t for ages.”

“Yes, you have,” she said knowingly. “They’re still working out of the Hyperion, in case you were wondering.”

He hadn’t seen any of them in years, not since that night he died and a soulless man was born. He’d found out from the underworld that Angel had survived and that a slayer army, led by Faith and Buffy had shown up to help in the fight. That night, or anyone since, he’d neither had the strength or the courage to find anyone to inform them that he had survived as well.

“How can I go there? It’s been years and they don’t even know I’m alive.”

“I can’t make the choice for you. It’s part of the higher power deal; I can only tell what you need to know.” She reached out, touching his face with her fingertips, before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Just remember, Wes: old friends are there for a reason.” She turned, walking around the truck and disappearing the same way she had come.

He pushed off his car, reaching inside his coat to find the rose over his heart in full bloom. He smiled and walked over to her grave.

“To you, my love. Thank you for giving me my heart,” he whispered, kissing the petals and placing the fresh bloom on her headstone. He felt the gray skies crack, and single beam of sun shined down on him.

“You’re welcome,” he heard the wind whisper back. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his keys as he walked back over to his car. “Old friends,” he muttered, looking down at his keys thoughtfully. “It’s not everything, but it’s someplace to start.”


End file.
